


Untitled

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb, D/s, Dubious Concent, Light Foot Kink, M/M, Sibling Incest, Urophagia, Watersports, sub!bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t really remember when the idea first crossed your mind. Hell, it could have been years ago. Once upon a time the thought might have originated as a prank, inspired by Egbert as he went on about some practical joke or another.</p><p>My, how things have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmiccastles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmiccastles/gifts).



> This is what happens when I try to write things really fast. It could have been so much better, but I've got some other stuff to work on before I can revisit this later. Anyway, please enjoy Striders drinking piss yeah.

You don’t really remember when the idea first crossed your mind. Hell, it could have been years ago. Once upon a time the thought might have originated as a prank, inspired by Egbert as he went on about some practical joke or another.

My, how things have changed.

Shaking yourself out, you watch as the last little drops of faintly yellow piss ripple through the ice cube tray. Somewhere along the line your brain obviously took a wrong turn because this really wasn’t at all what you used to envision yourself doing on a Friday night. You thought there’d be girls, beer, weed, parties- all that typical teenage bullshit you were once so eager to take part in.

But, here you are. Sixteen years old, standing alone in the apartment, no beer, no weed, no girls. Just a rapidly hardening dick as you stroke yourself absently and let yourself imagine how this will play out.

Bro had a thing for cold drinks. Or, to be more specific, he had a thing for ice. For as long as you could remember Bro would always have a glass in his hand at some point in the day, the sides fogging up in the intense heat only Texan sun could bring, little droplets of condensation gliding down the smooth surface and dripping onto the floor, or forming a ring on his thigh when he sat back on the futon and channel surfed endlessly.

Most of the time he wouldn’t even finish the drink. It seemed as though all he was interested in was tipping back the glass far enough to slide a couple ice cubes into his mouth, and he’d sit there and crunch for what seemed like hours on end. When the two of you were out together, at the movies or the mall, whatever it was, he’d always have a soda in hand, cap and straw tossed into the first trash can and a mouthful of slush as he cracked cube after cube between his molars.

One time you even caught him buying a large soda and moving to the fountain, only to fill up the cup he paid two bucks for with ice. Straight up ice.

You’re frowning hard as you concentrate, leaning back against the counter with your dick in one hand as the other glides up your chest and pushes your shirt up. He’d be so surprised. He might even swallow a cube whole in his astonishment, and he’d choke some and his face would get red from both the lack of breath and how embarrassing it would be.

You just want to see your brother choke on a mouthful of your piss, and really, that’s such a hard thing to accomplish. You’d really prefer your dick to be nestled happily between his lips, but for now you’ll just have to settle with ice.

Your plans are pushed back a couple of hours when you accidentally get cum in the tray.

You’ll save that for another time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Bro’s home from work early tonight. The sound of keys in the door jars you out of your languid state of half consciousness, sprawled out on the futon with your face pressed into the cushion and your hands limp on a controller. Your avatar has been running into a wall for at least fifteen minutes, but you had long since abandoned the game in favor of sniffing the cushions for any and all traces of your brother. Some voice in the back of your mind pipes up and tries to remind you to feel guilty, but it’s been ignored for so long you don’t even care when you stare at Bro’s ass when he walks by. 

“Sup, kid?” He sends over his shoulder as he passes you by and walks into the kitchen. You sit up and shrug, tossing back a noncommittal word that may or may not have been mostly a grunt. Honestly you were kinda pissed that he had come back so early. The buzz in the back of your head from his scent was starting to get a rise out of you. Can’t a guy jerk off to his bro in peace?

You don’t really catch Bro’s reply as he busies himself in the kitchen. He’s probably grabbing a bag of doritos, same as every night as he contemplates buying pizza or Chinese. It’s only when he opens the freezer and calls back to you that your attention snaps to him while he speaks. 

“Dave, the fuck is wrong with the ice?” 

Your stomach lurches pleasantly, but you swallow your nerves as you stand, feigning innocence and even a little bit of indifference as you pace yourself and walk over to the kitchen and lean against the counter. 

“Nothing. I made it for you, jackass, the least you could do is thank me.”

He purses his lips and looks down at the tray, a look of intense suspicion crossing his features. He doesn’t bother hiding his emotions when it’s just the two of you alone. You can both read each other easily anyway, it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“How did you manage to turn it this color?” 

You take deep, even breaths, hiding the way your chest expands expertly in your hunched shoulders as you flick your gaze down at the ice cubes and back to his face. Your own lips curl up, hopefully in a way that makes you look hurt as you shrug and cross your arms. 

“Found a recipe online. It’s for Italian water ice, sorry for going the extra mile, won’t happen again.” 

Pure, unadulterated satisfaction sparks down your spine as Bro takes a moment to look properly surprised. He looks down at the tray and you already know he’s sold, not a worry in his mind as he mumbles “gay” under his breath and cracks at least six out and drops them into his glass. 

You’re ecstatic beside him, but not outwardly so. The only indication that you’re feeling anything other than chill is the halt in your breathing when Bro licks his fingers after handling the ice, a thoughtful air crossing his face as his taste buds consider what he’s trying. 

“Why is it salty?” 

“Hey, Bro, I didn’t make the recipe. Just shut the fuck up and enjoy the fruits of my hard labor.” 

He sighs and turns away to slide the half empty tray back into the freezer, shaking his head as he no doubt honestly considers signing you up for a cooking class. 

“I made lemonade too.” You prompt him gently, arms still folded across your chest as you stare him down. He’s feeling all kinds of guilty about criticizing your ice, you can see it in the set of his lips as he reaches for the door to the fridge once more and pulls out a pitcher of bright yellow liquid. 

You swallow hard. Originally you had intended only the ice to be tampered with. Most of what’s in there is actual lemonade, of course, but you honestly couldn’t help yourself. 

Bro gives a resigned sigh as he pours himself a glass and turns to slide it back into the fridge, and when he looks back at you with the glass held tight in his hands he frowns steadily. 

“Did you break something? Is that what this is for?”

You scoff, turning away even as every cell in your body screams to keep your eyes locked on him in case he takes his first sip. 

“I didn’t break anything. You, however, are breaking something right now. It’s my heart. It’s shattered. I can’t believe how ungrateful you are. This relationship is over.” 

Your sentences are a little awkward and jerky coming out, but Bro doesn’t seem to notice as he makes his way back into the living room. You turn to follow immediately, eyes locked on his lips as he takes a seat on the futon and kicks his legs up onto the coffee table. 

You sit on the other side, legs spread and shoulders relaxed as Bro picks up the remote and turns the tv on. When he goes for the first sip you can feel your heart leap into your throat, and you nearly pass out when he swallows a couple mouthfuls right off the bat. 

“Not bad.” He says, his lips still connected to the lip of the glass as he gently eases the first ice cube back to his teeth. Bro is careful to let it slide inside between his lips before he draws the glass away and sets it on his leg. You can’t even breathe as he cracks it between his back teeth, lips pulling together as he sucks hard on the split cube and lets it roll around on his tongue. 

He said it wasn’t bad. It isn’t long before he takes another sip, swallowing the ice left in his mouth whole as he tips the cold glass back again and downs another couple gulps. 

Your eyes are latched onto his throat, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow. Your own throat is working in sync, though you’re swallowing thickly to avoid drooling beside him. It’s obvious he’s enjoying himself as he sits back and relaxes against the futon, one hand over the back as he lets the remote fall just a little between his strong thighs. Maybe if you play your cards right you can cop a feel by reaching for it later. 

Right now, though, you’re too focused on the show beside you. Bro sits still for a while, seemingly savoring the strange flavor on his tongue as he absently rubs his thumb on the glass. Distantly, you’re aware of your dick chubbing up under the soft material of a pair of sweatpants. You drop one hand into your lap and try hard to not rub against it too much but he’s making it so hard on you. 

There are a couple heroic attempts at conversation on his part, but you’re too far gone to really respond. He takes it in stride, probably connecting your lack of any solid responses and your lowering eyelids as signs of exhaustion. It wouldn’t be the first time you fell asleep beside him on the futon, even if it was only eight o’clock at night. 

Today, though, is quite the opposite. Your body is buzzing, every inch of your skin tingling with warm heat that originates in the pit of your stomach. Each time Bro picks the glass up to snag an ice cube you want to pick up your hips and rock into your hand, and it doesn’t help that just minutes ago you were ready to beat off with your face pressed into the futon, inhaling his scent that only grew stronger when he sat beside you. 

The best part about this is the fact that he can’t seem to keep lifting his glass. Either he’s really thirsty or he honestly loves what he’s drinking, and that thought alone brings heat to your cheeks as you slump a little further in your seat and drag your eyes across his form. His eyes catch yours as you blink slowly, trying to picture your dick in his hand instead of that glass, the tip of your cock against his tongue instead of the drink. 

“You feelin alright?” He asks, traces of concern trailing on his words as he offers you the glass, but you shake your head and mumble something about needing sleep. You don’t need sleep, you need him to finish that glass, you need to hear him lick his lips as he appreciates the lingering taste of your piss in his mouth, you need him to bite down on the last ice cube eagerly even as he wishes there were more left. 

Finally, he finishes the lemonade. There are still three ice cubes rattling and sliding and melting in his cup and you inch your hand closer to your half hard dick, hoping against hope that it blocks the bulge from his line of sight as he swirls the contents of the glass around some before he draws it back up to his lips like he’s dying of thirst. 

Your control is slipping, but the thought doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it should.

He’s being so good, drinking to the last drop and you want to see him lick the rim for the last traces of your piss so bad you could scream. You want him to kneel between your knees and you want to press your dick against the side of his face, demand that he suck you off, that he swallow you whole, tell you how good you taste and that he doesn’t want it to stop. 

“That was some good stuff,” He says as he tips the glass up and slides one of the last ice cubes into his mouth before he demands, “Go get me more.” 

His cheeks draw in as he sucks on the melting cube and you’re euphoric beside him, standing up and letting your grin finally split your lips. You can’t stop yourself. This was your undoing, your ticket to hell was bought and paid for at this point and really you could not care any less. 

“No need,” You bite your lip, taking the glass from his hand as his eyebrows pull together, “Got it on tap, right here.” Finally you move your hand and cup yourself, and you could scream with how good the friction feels, a shiver sliding down your back as Bro freezes beneath you.

Realization dawns on him slowly and his disbelief is clear as day as he looks up at you, his mouth positioned in just the right way to show you he was rolling the ice around on his tongue, no doubt trying to draw all the bitter flavor out. 

He hesitates for a moment and you’re about ready to jizz inside your pants at this point. His eyes slide down to your hand and he thinks about swallowing for a moment as you tighten your fingers around the rapidly hardening outline of your cock. 

“You liked it.” You tell him as you slide your hand down over your dick to the base and squeeze. Every single fuck you gave about not letting him know has flown right the fuck out the window, they’ve ollied the fuck outie, and you took a step forward and brought the glass up to your lips to drink some of the melted liquid. It’s a taste you’re quite familiar with, and you smack your lips when you pull the glass down and grin at him when you watch his cheeks darken. 

He didn’t just like it.

“Why didn’t you finish it, Bro, come on.” You say as you step just a little closer. You’re right on top of him, now, legs right against his as his hands flex by his side. He either wants to hit you our touch you, and really there’s only one way to find out which one it is. 

“Swallow it. I know you haven’t yet. There’s still two more ice cubes left. I wouldn’t let them go to waste if I were you.” 

Bro’s fingers curl into his palm as he keeps his eyes firmly on your hips. His jaw is working and his legs press together, and you know you’ve won. You’re one lucky bastard, that’s for sure. Naturally, you decide to push that luck a little by reaching forward with your free hand and you catch his jaw. There’s a spark of rage in his eyes as you tip his head back and he tenses beneath you, obviously not used to this shift in power. But you’re high as a kite, nothing can touch you, not even Bro. 

“Swallow it.” Voice dark and low, you draw your words out slowly as you let your eyes stop on his lips. He sits stubbornly beneath you, challenging you with his eyes as he lifts an eyebrow and turns up the corner of his lips. 

That won’t do. You slide your hand up from his chin and pinch his nose with your thumb and forefinger, a smile spreading back over your lips as his eyes widen and his chest immediately jumps as he tries to breath in. 

“Swallow it, Bro.” You say as you curl your remaining fingers into the side of his jaw. His stubble scratches lightly against the tips of your digits and you delight in the feeling of his hard jawline responding under your touch, even if it’s just him clenching and unclenching his teeth. His cheeks are going red and you can feel him straining against you, and you’re biting your lip in fascination as he nearly writhes with the need to breathe. 

Finally he cracks, opening his mouth and gasping as he swallows, choking on his spit and the melted ice- choking on your piss, just like you wanted, god he’s such a good boy- and taking in lungfuls of air as you let go of his nose and pat his cheek lightly. He shivers some and you rake your eyes across him, startled to see a lump in his own jeans as he very firmly looks at the wall. 

“Enjoying yourself, Bro?” You ask as you consider the glass in your hand. The ice is nearly melted, swimming in a bitter pool of very lightly yellowed water, only partially due to the lemonade. A thought crosses your mind and you tip the glass up, spilling the rest into your mouth as you keep your free hand on Bro’s face. 

He’s still breathing kind of heavily, his hands flexing in his gloves. He tries to say something, but before he can get the words out you’re pushing a couple fingers into his mouth to hold down his tongue. He stops in his tracks and lets his mouth fall open willingly, and you grin around your mouthful of melting ice as you delight in your ability to pull him up with your fingers curled behind his teeth. 

“Dave.” He starts, awkwardly forming your name around your fingers, and the sound is like music as you dip your head down and fit your lips to his. Bro sucks in a breath just as you open up and let everything in your mouth slide into his and he chokes once again, drawing back immediately and spluttering, covering his front in your piss and spit as he coughs and gags. His lips and chin are dripping wet and you wait until he’s done before sliding your tongue out to clean him up some. 

When Bro shivers and tries to press close again you let him, every inch of your skin burning for his touch as you shove your tongue inside his mouth, nearly forcing him to gag as you invade him and twist your hand in his hair. He fumbles with the glass in your hand until you relinquish it and watch out of the corner of your eye with amusement as he just tosses it down at the other end of the futon. 

When you break apart he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath before running his fingers through his hair. His hands pause in the air some before moving forward and landing on your hips. 

“Alright, so I liked it. I’m guessing this wasn’t a joke then? I’ll admit I thought it was at first but. This doesn’t seem like a joke.” Bro says as he almost nervously plucks at the band to your sweatpants. You catch one of his hands and pull it over to the front of your hips and hold him there firmly, letting your head swim for a moment as you appreciate the feeling of each of his thick, warm digits tight against you through your pants. 

He tenses in front of you and you nearly roll your eyes at his nervousness. Sure, this probably wasn’t how he envisioned his night going, but really you had thought it’d be easy for him to roll with it. 

Guess you should just take all the thinking out of his hands, then. 

Shifting your weight a little, you stand up on the futon and plant your feet on either side of his thighs. His eyes open wide as he finds himself face-to-face with your crotch and for the first time you find yourself kind of glad for the obvious height difference. 

“Shut up.” You say as you take his hand off your dick for the moment it would take to pull yourself out. Bro swallows hard and nods his head just the slightest bit and you let go of his hand in favor of winding your fingers in his hair. He doesn’t stay still for long, and soon enough he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips against your cock. 

This is a dream. You’re sure of it. All you’ve wanted the last couple months, maybe even years of your life, was to see your asshole brother with his lips on your dick and it’s finally happening. He’s going at it, too, as if all he’s wanted was the same thing. It isn’t hard to believe when he slides his tongue up your dick like he wants to taste every inch of you and you can’t stand the way his eyes look up lazily when he seals his lips around the tip. 

“That’s it baby.” You hear yourself say as you reach down and take hold of the base. Bro holds still to let you rub your cockhead against his lips, your own caught between your teeth as you gently nudge his mouth open with your thumb again and slide the first couple inches inside. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” You tell him quietly as you cup the back of his head and grit your teeth when he bobs his head slowly around you. “I’ve always wanted to see you choke on my piss. You made such a mess, god what a slob, Bro. And judging by the way you kept chugging it down you wanted the same thing, huh? Bet you couldn’t wait for your little bro to stand up and shove his cock down your throat. You probably get off every night just thinking about it, just thinking about how my dick would feel stuffed down your throat.”

Bro groans around you and you snap your hips forward, pulling him down on your dick until it’s buried in his throat and his nose is right against your stomach. The sloppy, wet heat is driving you insane as you try to fuck him like that, hunched over his shoulders as you jerk your hips and feel him choke and swallow around you. 

When he gags you pull away, a line of spit connecting your dick to his lips as he pants beneath you and eagerly gets to work sliding his lips down your cock to your balls. You busy yourself by jerking roughly on your dick as Bro lolls his tongue against them and sucks one into his mouth. They’re tightening with each movement, and it’s embarrassing but you aren’t sure how much longer you can last as he pulls off and reaches up with his hand to take over for you. 

You tip your head down some and notice that he has a hand down his own pants and you grin as you curl your fingers around his chin and lift his head. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask as you shift your weight and nudge his hand away with your foot. He eagerly accepts the offer and rolls his hips up against the arch of your foot and you laugh as he redoubles his efforts on your own dick, slobbering down the side before swirling his tongue around the tip. 

“You’re a little whore, aren’t you?” You ask as you pick his face up to look you in the eye. His cheeks are flushed red and his eyes are heavy and dark, and you’re feeling all kinds of powerful when he lets his eyes drop away off your own. “Admit it.”

“I’m a whore.” Bro states quietly, his voice shot to hell with all his coughing and choking around your dick and on the ice. It’s music to your ears, though, and you jerk yourself quickly. 

“Louder.” 

“I’m a whore,” Bro says, picking his head up and turning his bright red cheeks up at you as his eyes plead you to let him get back on your dick and you shiver in pleasure. It’s too intense, it’s too much, it’s more than you even dared to hope for. You came into this with the thought that’d you’d be jerking off in bed later today just thinking about your brother crunching on your frozen piss but now you have him hard and willing under your thumb and it’s just too much.

You shout his name hoarsely and cum across his face, splattering his cheeks and nose and over one of his eyes with white cum that stands in stark contrast to his blush as he jerks a little under you at the sudden surprise. 

When he opens his mouth to slide his tongue through whatever he can reach on his face you let yourself laugh breathlessly before you tuck yourself away and fall down into the futon beside him. 

Bro gives you a look. It would have been chilling if not for the cum dripping down his cheek.

“Yo. Dude. You’re just gonna leave me with a faceful of cum and a hard dick?” 

You shrug tiredly and smile his way before reaching over and giving him a squeeze. “Well, I do have to piss.”


End file.
